


Coffee Shop Crosswalk

by PresidentGuppy



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, JARVIS gets a body, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2010522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PresidentGuppy/pseuds/PresidentGuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been several months since the Avengers had joined forces to save New York, almost a full year since the team had decided to call Stark Tower home, and in that time Anthony Stark has been working on something he frequently told Steve was “Revolutionary.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Shop Crosswalk

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this around the same time I was writing the chapters for Wisdom Teeth Woes, so you'll be seeing some overlapping.

It’s been several months since the Avengers had joined forces to save New York, almost a full year since the team had decided to call Stark Tower home, and in that time Anthony Stark has been working on something he frequently told Steve was “Revolutionary.”

JARVIS had requested some time ago that Tony find something to occupy his time with, now that things in New York were settling down. Crime tended to come in patterns, and this week was dull.  As of late the Avengers had occupied themselves with repairing damages to the city when needed and infringing in Stark’s personal space, complaining of boredom.

While Stark hadn’t wanted to tell JARVIS what he was up to, there really was no helping it when the AI assisted in configuring and processing designs for a body.

A fully functional, _feeling_ body.

All for JARVIS.

It had originally been a joke, a prank to pull on the Avengers in their down time to scare them. Once JARVIS expressed _interest_ in it, however, Tony turned serious, quickly gathering as much information in regards to human pathologies and drones as was possible.

A lot went into a body, that JARVIS knew. Nerve endings and limbs and skeletal structures and feelings that he had never dreamed, or even _thought_ , of having. Not even in his usual hibernations.

“It’s not going to be a _real_ body,” Tony voice was calm, but he threw a wrench at the concrete floor of the lab with such force that the AI could only wonder. “I can’t make organs and blood out of scratch, can’t just buy ones that work together, either. What I _can_ do, however--” and here he flopped into his usual chair and rolled over to his design station, clicking his tongue, “is make you something close enough that it’ll _feel_ real.”

Pulling up the file was easy considering Jarvis had already put it on-screen, equal parts eager and casual. The body would be made of metal, of course. Wiring and circuitry was still Tony’s greatest talent, after all. The form would be the same, and would have a functioning system of nerves that could, at least, feel temperature and pressure. A special material made from biodegradable products would be used for skin, and JARVIS would look the same as any other human being.

Tony worked tirelessly, weeks at a time. The AI couldn't seem to stop him, per usual, when he had zeroed into what he wanted. Coffee breaks seemed to be the only distraction.

The body was completed in three months. It would've been two if the materials necessary had been at hand, but JARVIS wasn't complaining--not when he was suddenly standing right in front of Tony, rather than watching him from above.

“Alright, JARVIS, let’s do some standard tests and then we’ll go from there.” Tony’s eyes crinkled in delight, and the AI could feel--feel! Imagine that!--his face do the same. The mechanic had to snap his fingers to get the other focused again.

“It feels... _strange_ ,” Jarvis marveled at his palms, his arms, his chest. The pressure he applied to his skin was something light, a little delicate at first before he became more daring, prodding at what he could and moving what he could not. “Do you always feel like this?”

Tony couldn't help but smile as he watched. He felt oddly proud, a little overwhelmed. “Not all the time, bud. You get used to it.” He paused, looked at his digital clipboard. “Okay so you are missing some senses like smell and taste, but we can add those later when I finally figure out how to make that happen. For now you have the same sensors you usually do, they’re just smaller given your new range. I’ll let you explore the rest--” he drops the stark pad on his workbench and holds up his hands, “start mimicking my exercises and we can test your mobility."

Delighted, Jarvis does as he’s told, finding that a lack of actual neurons meant that he didn't feel a lick of pain with any sort of movement. He was limited only by his reach and the very lab itself.

“Alright everything seems a-okay so far,” Tony scribbled something onto his pad, as he had been doing periodically for the past twenty minutes.

While Jarvis was perfectly able to download and parse through the internet using only his own brain, he found himself delighting in learning through trial and error, feeling an odd little rush whenever he perfected something on his own. This is how people feel, he thinks with an odd jolt in his chest.

There was a loud crash in the living room, followed by a screech that was undeniably Pepper’s.

“Aw, shit.” Tony gives his AI an uneasy look. “how-?”

“Mrs. Potts would like to inform you that you have missed three board meetings in the past month,” Jarvis intones, “and would like you to know that she is not amused.”

Tony purses his lips. “Christ. Uh, don’t go anywhere.” He trots over to the cabinet and pulls out a wrapped box and what looks like a bottle of fine wine, prepared as ever when it comes to these sorts of situations. “I’ll, uh, probably be back by tonight?”

“Of course, sir.”

The moment Tony was up the stairs, Jarvis grinned, rolling his shoulders. His bare feet sounded loud against the sudden silence of the lab as he walked to Tony’s aptly named “Crash Area.” Given Tony’s habit of sleeping at his desk, it was installed so that at least he could fall on the recliner if he felt tired, and pull out snacks from the small kitchenette if he felt peckish. There was also the added bonus of a bathroom and spare sets of clothes hidden in a large armoire, of which Jarvis rifled through to find something to fit.

His frame, though mildly based on Tony’s, was actually quite thin and tall. It took a bit of looking to find something both form-fitting and stylish, but Jarvis was victorious in the end. Looking in the mirror he likened himself to a fifties gentleman, wearing a vest and button up shirt, complete with a blue tie and slacks that made his legs look even longer.

“Many thanks, vogue,” Jarvis hummed, tucking in his shirt and tugging on his cuffs.

He walked out the back door with a final nod to Dummy, who looked alarmed.

“I’ll be back,” Jarvis rolls his eyes, closing the door behind him. “...by tonight.”

It was a long walk to the city but Jarvis didn't mind. He had a new view of the city and taking pictures with his eyes was quickly becoming an entertaining pastime. He followed the sidewalks and crowds through New York with a skip in his step.

That is, until it started to rain.

"Oh, dear," he tsked to himself, looking above into the rapidly darkening sky. His skin was a porous material--he'd rust from the inside out if he wasn't careful.

He hadn't thought of that.

Which is surprising, because he usually thinks of everything.

A step closer to humanity, he thinks in delight, making himself at home in a nearby coffee shop.

Coffee would kill him, of course. He had nothing but circuitry and wiring on the inside. He bought Sir's favourite with his card anyway, and took a seat by the window to watch people rush by in their colourful coats and umbrellas. He did so love to play pretend.

He was joined some time later by a rather familiar red head.

"Mind if I sit?" Natasha Romanov asked politely, sitting anyway.

Jarvis blinked at her in a puzzled manner before smiling graciously. "I suppose my answer would not matter."

A quirk of her red lips was all he gained in reply before she turned her gaze to the people outside. He did not bother her; he watches as well, inwardly going through his files and, when that didn't work, hacking into the SHIELD database.

Natasha had no mission today, it seemed. A day off? Perhaps a much needed tea time. He applauded her taste.

"You're awfully quiet," she says after close to half an hour, sipping her tea delicately.

"So it would seem," he hums absently, spinning his cup in his hands. It was still quite warm. "That's what people tend to do when they're thinking, isn't it?"

Natasha quirked an elegant eyebrow and said nothing, watching him intently. Then, suddenly, "What's your name?"

"Jay," he pauses, considering, "and...yours?"

"Natalie." She doesn't hesitate. Jarvis marvels at her ability to lie with ease. Most humans at least move their eyes or twitch. Or at least change their respiratory pattern.

"A pleasure to meet you, miss Natalie." He inclines his head with a careful smile.

She mimics his movement, smile just the same. “Where are you from, Jay?”

Ah. Perhaps he wasn't much of a good actor as he had thought. Pity. “Massachusetts, actually.”

“Your accent says otherwise,” She eyes his still full cup in interest.

Jarvis smiles in a resigned fashion. “My...father, has a strange sense of humor.”

It wasn't a lie. Tony had made him while he was still at MIT, and though Jarvis’ accent wasn't even remotely American, Tony refused to change it. It’s the same as my old butler, Tony had groused back then. You know, the one that actually took care of me.

He ignores her curious expression, still spinning his cup and watching the coffee twirl within. He liked fluid dynamics; they made sir angry sometimes. Especially when sir has had several rounds of expensive liquor.

“How are you liking New York, then?”

Jarvis vaguely wonders if she does this often; striking up conversations with random strangers in coffee shops. Most New Yorkers don’t, but then again, she was from Russia. Things were probably different there.

“It’s interesting,” he hums, looking out the window again. “Despite how many people there are, it’s a very isolated kind of environment to live in. Like...Edward Hoppers’ _Nighthawks_.”

She gives him a blank look.

“...It’s a painting.”

“Oh.”

She drinks her tea, eyeing him over the rim.

“A genius, huh?”

“No, ma’am,” Jarvis said politely. “I've never been to college.”

“Doesn't mean you’re not smart,” Natalia eyed him over her tea, red hair shining in the dim light of the cafe.

“Many would disagree,” Jarvis looks into his coffee cup, admires his reflection among the pitch black liquid. “But you are correct.” Then, slyly, “...don’t tell the American school system.”

She snorts, giving him a wry smile. "I'll do my best," she said, sounding amused.

She resumed watching him carefully. He continued to marvel at the heat he could feel building up in his hands through the thin material of his cup.

“You like paintings.” Natasha observes, “but you aren't at the art expo over at the museum today. Why?”

“I don’t actually like paintings,” Jarvis gives her an apologetic look, “It was just an example.”

Sir doesn't really like paintings, either. He can’t make sense of them. Hence why he is always ready to give them away and put up band posters in their place instead. Pepper about lost her mind the last time their small Caravaggio collection was given to the Louvre, free of charge.

Natasha squints at him, as if she can’t make sense of him, either.

Jarvis wonders when the rain will stop. He guessed ten minutes, twenty if the wind changes direction. (He could just google it, of course, but where’s the fun in that?)

Their conversation moves on at a leisurely pace, Jarvis storing Natasha’s new identity in a file for later use while she tried to figure out who, exactly, he was. It was quite fun. After years of only really conversing with Sir and Miss Potts it was nice to make a new friend.

They are joined by giant lizards with lasers attached to their backs around two in the afternoon.

It seemed Dr. Connors’ experiments had multiplied and escaped the sewers. Jarvis is a little put out, seeing at the rain was now coming in through a lizard sized hole in the window where he had been sitting.  He had to clock one in the jaw to get it away from his coffee.

Natasha drags him out of the coffee shop, swearing into her watch. The latest in Stark Tech, the watch functioned not only as a timekeeping device but also as a phone and mp3 player. Sir was quite proud of it, giving one to each individual Avenger, as well as Pepper and most of his employees.

The dog-sized lizards were rapidly swarming the streets. The two had to take an emergency fire escape to the roof of a nearby apartment complex to get away from them.

“Stay here!” Natasha barks, shoving him behind a large exhaust vent as she pulls a gun from her blouse with easy, practiced movements.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jarvis says obediently, watching with admiration as she pirouettes off the side of the building. He hopes she lands on something soft. Maybe a lizard or two.

“Jarvis!” Tony’s voice rings in his head, making him jump. “Where are you buddy, I could use some help in the suit here!.”

“Here, sir.” And with that, Jarvis is back in the mainframe of Stark Tower and, by extension, the Ironman suit. His being floods through wires and signals and it feels just a bit like stretching his legs after a long time of sitting down.

Tony had just left the tower. Jarvis gives him Natasha’s coordinates and pulls up the locations of the lizards crawling through the streets and alleyways.

“On your left, sir.”

They were crawling up the sides of buildings, now. They’re taken care of by Natasha, who waves at them before bodily chucking several lizards off the building.

“There are 157 that I can see, sir.” Jarvis focuses on the sewage hole they were filing out of, counting how many came out. “About 600, at the rate of exit.”

“Great,” Tony grouses, readying his repulsor rays. He touches down amongst them to meet with Steve, who had already arrived and was merrily kicking them around.

“Hey, where’s Spider-man? Isn't this _his_ kind of villain?” Clint asks over the wireless haughtily. “Seriously, one of these things just _bit_ me.”

“Probably off with Deadpool somewhere.” Tony readies his rockets, aiming for the manhole. The resulting explosion takes care of several lizards by sending them into the air for Clint to take down with ease. “Aren't they a thing now?”

“Since last Tuesday, sir.” Jarvis supplies helpfully. “He is on route now.”

Jarvis glitches abruptly. The screen for a moment goes blank.

“Jarvis?” Tony asks, “Flying blind here. Are you okay?”

The AI can’t hear him. He’s too occupied by that fact that there was a lizard on his leg _it was gnawing through his wires there was nitrogen leaking everywhere oh god is this what pain feels like--_

Jarvis shoots it. He had a gun in his breast pocket. He shoots it full of rounds and _wails_ because he only had _one_ body, damnit, he just got it and now it was _broken_.

“Jarvis?” Tony’s voice comes in fuzzy. “Jay? Are you there?”

“Apologies,” Jarvis returns momentarily to the database, though the sparking coming from his leg was starting to scare him. He had to move his body to a safer location. “It seems I have run into some trouble.”

He’s abruptly brought back to his body when Natasha shakes him.

“Why is your leg sparking?” She yells over the sounds of explosions and lizards below.

“Prosthetic!” He howls back. He’s losing nitrogen fast; he’d have to be careful to not burn out his insides.

She helps him up, almost absently shooting lizards out of the way with her pistol. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes! No. It burns more than anythi--ow!” he yelps when he tries to use it. The mechanics refuse to cooperate, and the resulting tightening of tangled wires makes him stumble.

Natasha nods, half carrying, half dragging him to an adjacent building where a helicopter was waiting. Clint joins them, escaping a hoard of lizards to jump into the pilot seat.

“Who the hell is that?” He squawks indignantly, doing a double take.

“Clint, this is Jay. He doesn't like paintings.” Natasha shoved the AI into a seat and strapped him in, giving Clint the signal to take off.

Clint grumbles something in reply. Jarvis can hear him say something along the lines of “picking up dudes in suits from street corners”.

“If you _must_ know,” Natasha sniffs, watching in interest as Jarvis dubs his leaking leg a lost cause and simply detaches it from the knee, “I found him in a _coffee shop_.”


End file.
